


All I Want

by followsrabbit



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 13:53:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8893183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/followsrabbit/pseuds/followsrabbit
Summary: William comes back for Noora and Christmas.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Unrepentant fluff. 
> 
> (I have no idea how to write either of them, so I apologize if this is out of character, but I'm just really, really sad that he didn't show up in the last episode?????)

A sprig of mistletoe appeared over his head as soon as the door opened, hanging from the molding.

There had been a time when William would have grinned at the decoration and grabbed at the opportunity to kiss any girl it let him, but he ignored it now. Holiday plants didn’t mean a damn thing when Noora just so happened to be standing on the other side of the threshold, the echo of a smile frozen on her—beautiful, so fucking beautiful, always so fucking beautiful—face.

His name came out frozen too, less a word than a breath, and less a breath than a missed heartbeat.  “William,” she said, her bright lips floundering as her eyes widened and her muscles began to thaw.

He wanted to kiss her. Her light hair fell farther down her shoulders than it had when he’d last seen her, but her lips were still the same shade of red that she’d smeared across his too many times to count, and it had been too fucking long since he’d touched her. Since he’d seen her, heard her, _smelled_ her. He was a cliché of longing and lust, lacking the words he owed her.

(There were other words too, rawer, harder ones that he’d picked apart by the seams since walking into their apartment one night and realizing that she was really, truly gone. Her things cleaned out of the closet and the bathroom and the bookshelves. Only a few leftover vegetables, hers, in the kitchen to prove that she had ever lived there at all, slicing peppers while he snuck behind her to whisper his mouth against her hair and lower his lips down to her neck. Kissing Noora Amalie Saerte while she had a blade in her hand would probably have earned him a stab wound only a few months before, and he’d still relished the soft laugh it drew from her then.)

His tongue darted across his lips, searching for the right letters. He wondered what she would do to him if he went and kissed her now.

“Hi,” he said, aware of the attention he’d drawn from her flatmates, even as his own attention latched upon Noora alone. Like always. From the beginning, from the first time he had noticed her, she’d made it damn near impossible to notice anything else.

She still did. Even when she fled a plane ride away from him.

“Hi?” She shuffled her hair behind her ear, exhaling disbelief.

He couldn’t tell if the question in her voice came from shock at the sight of him, or at his pathetic greeting.  He wanted to revise it, to say: _Fucking hell, it’s good to see you,_ or something else, something smoother, something that would fix her face into a smile.

Instead, he slanted a look towards the hall, waited for her small nod, pulled her past its threshold, and then against the closing door. His grip pulsed around her slim arm before loosening, stroking the pale, warm skin beneath her wrist. “I missed you so fucking much,” he breathed finally into the hall's quiet air. _Say that you missed me_ , he itched to command. _Say that you miss me._

But Noora just stared at him, backed against the door, expression inscrutable even as her arms rose to hug her waist. “I didn’t think you were coming back.”

“I didn’t think you’d leave.” His jaw ticked. Not really.

She shook her head, letting her light blonde hair whisk against her pink cheeks again, and then pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “William…”

“Noora.”

She stared at him, unblinking. He stared back, not blinking either.

“We were standing beneath the mistletoe before,” Noora said finally, just when he’d planned out their entire coming argument in his head. “Eskild keeps moving it--” she started to explain before cutting herself off, remembering, maybe, that she didn’t want to explain anything to him right now.

(She was supposed to say, _I wanted you to come after me_ , and he would have replied, _I am_ , and she would have rolled her eyes, and said, _It took you until now?_ and it would have gone back and forth, and so on, until he had his arms around her, his face buried in her neck, and her agreement that they were together again. That they had never stopped being together.)

William gave her a nod, and scrapped the script.

“You should kiss me. For the holiday,” Noora told him, raising her chin until their eyes met. “Then we’ll talk.” She pressed her lips together, but he could still see their slight curve.

No one could have survived as many bloody fights as he had without learning quick reflexes, and William made full use of them now. One moment, she was a reach away from him; in the same second, he had one hand clenched around her waist, tugging her hips against his, and the other brushing past her hair to frame her cheek as he slid his mouth against hers.

(Cocoa only ever tasted this good to him on her lips.)


End file.
